1000
by BlackHole47
Summary: (Little FrUk oneshot based on 'The end of the world') 999 AD. The deadline has come; it's time humankind to be judged for their sins. Nations are condemned to be vanished from Earth as well? That's what France has been told! He's too young to die! Maybe things don't turn out the way he thought they would, but, who cares? The World's going to end. Unless God said otherwise.


Sun rose in the east, unaware of the chaos within humanity.

The world was ending in just a few days. Nobody really knew it first-hand, nor the exact date either, but it was assumed as a given that the end of the year was the beginning of the new Millennium, which meant the coming of the Snake from the Depths, enclosed in Hell by the angels and condemned there for a thousand years…

…"And he hurled him into the abyss and shut it and sealed it over him, so that he would not mislead the nations anymore until the 1,000 years were ended…"

"Reciting fatalistic prayers again?"

Sitting on a huge wheat crop, although mostly barren and yellow due to the last droughts, two young kids were presumably resting, looking at a dry riverbed where a big current used to water the lands nearby. They seemed tranquil, far from the real world behind them.

However, they were several hundreds of years old. They were nations, and they had nothing to worry about… They thought, until a few minutes ago when one of them –a pretty lad with blond locks that was closer to adolescence than childhood- had found that chapter in the old Bible he used to own.

The other one sighed and shook his head full of bronze curls. He was the younger of the two, but he felt like he had to act as the adult.

"You haven't touched the Sacred Book for centuries, and now you can't separate from it", he said.

"Why don't you realize how serious this is? All the priests have been preaching this moment for years! You must have heard it too!"

"France, I've heard the priests. And I respect them. I only think they have misunderstood what they read", his brunet friend answered.

"I can't understand you. They hear God's voice! Are you saying that God is _wrong?!_ "

"No, of course not! I simply say that they're humans, and humans make mistakes constantly. Don't you remember, about four hundred years ago, when that kind of preachers ventured about the same coming of the Dark Lord?" The thin boy eased his posture on the grass and lay upwards to face the morning sky. His friend eyed him with a desperate expression on his face.

"But it is unmistakable this time! Can't you read what it says here? And, see! It's not only for humans, we're going to die too!"

"You're being too literal", he replied, and sighed again. "Listen to me. God's plans are very difficult to interpret for us, but I'm pretty sure of one thing: he will never abandon us."

He looked at his blond friend with a huge smile that irradiated pure light. France backed up.

"You're not going to avoid the Doomsday just by denying reality, Spain", he stood up and marched off without saying goodbye.

The city centre was noisy like an infernal kennel. People ran down the streets shouting, pleading mercy. The young boy saw houses on fire, corpses and dead animals. Some rich men had forsaken their house and two rascals were stealing all the food they could handle from its larder. Women were being forced in the public square and nobody seemed to care about it.

As well as the Lord had flooded their world and then drained the rivers, his rage had reached their people. Society was corrupted, the Church was in decline… Then God had said goodbye and Satan had taken his place, penetrating their souls.

Even some priests seemed to have forgotten what they were for, and joined the poor wretched in their way to sin. Well, France was old enough to know that what clerics said and what they did were contradictory most of time, but at least they pretended very well. No, he didn't have a good image of the Churchmen, but they were his last hope; so he felt pathetically abandoned when he saw that even those preachers were doomed to failure.

As a nation, he was able to be invisible to ordinary people whenever he fancied, so he sat down in a gloomy alley and spread his power all over him. No one disturbed him while he bent over his knees and cried loudly to suffocate the pain.

 _Isn't there something you want to do before dying?_

That sudden thought filled his mind. He opened his eyes.

It should be around midday, but some winter clouds had covered the skies, so there was no way to know. A strange determination had made his mind change totally.

 _Isn't there a place where you want to go? Somewhere you've craved to go your entire life?_

"Yes, there is", he answered his conscience's voice. He stood up and started running at an unnatural speed.

He travelled an entire day and night. His legs were aching like he'd blades embed into them and his throat was burning; he'd barely stopped or slept in his rustled up trip, but it didn't matter now. As if he'd something to lose!

That was his last hope. He _needed_ to fulfil his great, last desire.

Finally, by the sunset of the second day, he reached the lands he was looking for. A bit yonder, crossing an overgrown forest, he arrived to a little corner that seemed somewhat preserved from the Evil One.

Once leaving behind the leafy scenery, a small crystal lake opened on a grassy land, where a small child was sitting and talking to himself. He barely noticed the intruder until he was at the rear of him.

"…as if he owned the entire place. I hate this! Why is everything so complicated? Sometimes I just want to forget about those filthy humans and stay with you all my life…"

"Who are you talking to?", asked the French nation in his right ear.

"Aaaahhhhh!" The small child screamed scare jumped. "What on Earth are you doing here, frog?!"

"What an elegant choice of words, rugrat."

The boy in front of him was England, part of the Atlantic Islands and a project of nation. Barely a tenderfoot compared to him, Spain and some other European pupils the Germania and Roman fathers had left behind them.

He was all he had ever coveted, though. Since his appearance, he'd been fighting unremittingly to take control of him, over so many decades he'd lost count... Yet it had been useless, until now. Finally, there he was, unprotected, just at the reach of his hand! It seemed so easy…

A sudden yell startled him from his thoughts: "Do you _hear_ me?!"

"Uh?"

"How did you get here?", the kid repeated. He was already ready to fight, though he didn't hold any weapon under his black cloak. His face reminded France slightly of the one of a cornered hare.

"By swimming and running", he stated shortly.

"Whaaat? A-all the way here? Impossible." The blond little boy was still dazzled, peering towards the forest. He'd realised his only chance was to flee, even when France was unarmed too. But the other nation didn't make attempts to fight. He opened his eyes in surprise and asked: "Why?"

"My warriors would have stopped you", England answered.

This time France was the one who believed that to be impossible. "Nobody is working anymore. Haven't you heard the bells ringing?"

"Bells? N-no…"

The younger nation seemed so shocked that the big blond realised he wasn't pretending. Could England really be oblivious to the world crumbling down into the apocalypse?  
His first intentions of ruling the small nation faded away, being replaced by a feeling of overprotection. Somehow, that spot looked like the naiveté in its purest form; the kid didn't deserve to be punished by the Devil.

He was, nevertheless, afraid but daring. So, he asked again: "What did you make all the way running here for?"

"I have to become one with you", France sentenced.

* * *

Their clothes were stained with grass and they had earth all over their messy hair.

England had tried to run away from the other nation as soon as he'd finished his last words, but the other lad had impeded his escape. He'd refused to do the boy any harm, although the little kid hadn't had any qualms about scraping and throwing a fist or two to his face.

"Hey, I didn't break my neck to come here just to let you go! Stop at once, damned dimwit!"

"Dream on!", he said, but it was useless. Despite being tired and thirsty, France was still stronger and bigger. After being almost choked by his own hood, England gave up and let the older boy grab his arm.

"You didn't give me a single chance to explain. Why don't you hear my reasons before avoiding me?" France headed towards the lake and drank some fresh water, relieved. He let go of the boy, but he didn't take his eyes off him.

"What for?", he grumped. "I'm sure it is another trap. As always". He didn't care very much. France would soon let his guard down, as he continually did. At that moment, he'd run towards the woods, were his friends lived. There, he'd become undetectable and the irksome nation would have no other option but to return to his house.

"Everything's changed. I can't believe you haven't heard", France said. This captured the short-haired bloke's attention. "All Europe is in crisis".

"Mmm… You too?" His King always told him to gather all the info he could about his enemies.

"All of us!" Francis turned to him and glared at the boy with all the intensity he could muster. "The End of the World is coming. Tomorrow."

Well, that was indeed a serious bomb.

"Eff off!", England shouted. "I don't know anything of that. You're making things up again!"

"Do you even have a priest in your capital, thoughtless kid?"

The boy hesitated a few seconds, feeling embarrassed. "O-of course we have…" Actually, he had never paid too much attention to those men. They still felt like strangers. The places where he really belonged were full of creatures that those boring, unpleasant clerics called ' _blasphemy and fantasy'_. The preachers were always telling him what to do; but the creatures were full of real magic and they were trustful. So he'd already made a decision about what instructions he wanted to follow.

Although in the last centuries he'd learnt to pretend he believed in the Archbishop just so his King wouldn't be angry at him. "I think I remember them saying something about the coming of the Devil, isn't it?"

"Ah, you see? I couldn't really believe you hadn't heard of that."

"But those are just threats for mankind", the boy continued. A mischievous grin appeared on his face. "I can't believe you actually swallowed them so easily. You're so naïf", and he started laughing.

"Shut up! You're the only fool here! Everything I've said is reflected in the Sacred Book." The young lad seemed so disturbed that England had a somewhat hard time trying to downplay the situation. But he refused to admit it.

"I didn't come to frighten or threaten you. Actually, I thought you were already warned and…" France couldn't believe he could feel that sorry for the young country, but he did. His chest ached just by thinking of that brat vanishing in the clearing, talking to himself, unaware of his fate.

"I'm not going to pass away. I-I've just appeared. And the wise creatures of the forest didn't tell me anything about a world's deadline…"

"What creatures? Oh, dear", he shrugged and placed a hand over the young country's forehead. "You're already experiencing the symptoms of the evilness."

"Stop!" He slapped the hand and stepped back. "You're freaking me out!"

"Well, I'm warning you! If you want proof, come with me to the continent. You'll see the crops devastated by draughts and the sickness."

He looked at France's eyes. They didn't seem deceitful in any way. Hopelessness began to swarm all over his body.

"If you hate me that much, then, why are you here? If your stupid thoughts are true, then, why would you come to tell me? Are you that cruel?" He was on the verge of tears. "Do you want to make fun of me so badly?"

"No. No, never…" he trailed off. At first he had wanted to satisfy his own wishes, but that had surprisingly turned around. "I don't hate you. Yes, I tried very hard to rule over you, as I did with other countries as well, but now that's pointless." He hadn't averted his eyes from the child's the entire time, but he refused to look at him directly. "Just trust me. You need me now".

"I… I don't want to believe you. I can't!" Finally, tears began to roll down his cheeks. France went towards him and held his hands gently. England didn't try to get out anymore.

What had been the point of living, then, if he hadn't accomplished anything in his life?

"Can you believe at least one thing from me?", the older one asked.

The island didn't answer, so he took the silence as an agreement.

"You don't deserve to be alone. Why don't we spend our last day together?  
There's no point in fighting anymore".

No, there wasn't.

The child looked up in the sky and felt the chill of the winter night coming upon him.

"Alright. You can conquer me for one night. I'll let you be my protector".

* * *

They passed all night gossiping about queens, kings, allies and enemies, guarded by a warm bonfire.

He found out France wasn't as annoying as he'd thought from him. Yes, he was cocky and pretentious, but he was also very funny and truly witty when it came to calling some other people every name in the book.

They had found they had more in common than they had expected, as it was that their lands and people were quite dispersed. England –he liked to be called like that even when he wasn't a unity in itself –had to put up with constant battles within his borders. The people that formed his soul were pretty different and they were never happy together. The little boy couldn't really understand why, since he liked the Saxons, the Anglos and the Celtics equally. He felt somewhat relieved when he heard from France the same stories about the distinct parts of his territories, though he thought France was more like a bully than a victim.

At some point in the night, the older one began to remember the horrors he'd witnessed the last years, exactly as vivid as the very ones from two days ago, but he hushed. However, England could notice the change from the cheer to the dullness in his mood. He didn't ask.  
He approached him and put a hand on his to try to soothe him instead.

Thankfully, they were soon fighting again over the most absurd futilities, like flowers' names, music and food. He didn't understand how somebody could eat such disgusting things. France said exactly the same thing about him, and so they started rowing again.

Sunrise came and went, letting the Sun reach its zenith. They were rather tired, especially the continental country, who'd barely slept some hours over the course of three days, but they refused to leave the other one alone when the moment came.

Actually, England hadn't thought of the fatidic moment since the last evening.

They were lying in the green meadow, not talking for a change, their eyes locked in the almost cloudless sky. The wild animals, that had a lot more of instincts that the human beings, were unaffected by their invisibility skills, so they wandered around them, cozy as if the nations were part of the very ground or sky above them.

Contrary to his nature, the smaller kid broke the silence.

"Why did you think of me immediately after knowing the world was going to end?"

France was at a loss for words for a minute, looking at him in amazement. He was surprised the thick boy could actually see through the facts so sharply. He even felt a bit abashed now that he couldn't express himself openly without England noticing that his words were more than cynical comments.

"Well, I needed to accomplish my last duty before passing away".

" Duty? Isn't it just one of those whims of yours?"

The older country laughed softly and laid himself on the lush grass, arms under his head. His companion did the same, but he then sat up and caught his fluffy black-eared rabbit to pet him.

France stared at the sunset clouds, humming and wondering. Did it really matter if the boy knew about his sentiments? They were close to disappearing, and plus, he had been the first to push England to be with him that last night. At least, he should reward the kid with something in exchange.

For a moment, he wondered why he continued to think of England as a little child when they were the same. In spirits, he was of older age than him, that was why, he reckoned; but physically they were the same age. Just that the flighty island was shorter and had a rounder face.

The scruffy boy was trying to make the rabbit lie down on his legs without success. France smiled to himself and got hold of his waist, bringing him to his knees.

"What are you doing?", the smaller country shouted. "Let go of me!"

He just chucked deeply and began dandling the boy in his lap, who hadn't released the bunny and was now hugging it with an embarrassed look on his face.

"I won't. You're mine today, do you remember?"

"I-I didn't think you meant…!" but he stopped mid-phrase, his cheeks red. France smiled joyfully and swung him again, playing with the rabbit's ears with one hand and holding England's delicate body in his other arm.

The child finally desisted and smiled too, easing himself into the country's embrace. He placed his hands onto the animal's head peacefully and caressed it energetically. His fingers soon intertwined with France's but he didn't move them away. Instead, he grabbed them even tighter and smiled wider.

In other circumstances England would have taken any opportunity he had to fight with his antagonist, but this day was not the day. And however he didn't feel like that would be the last day of theirs on Earth. He only knew he was happy… Really happy. And he wanted that beautiful feeling to last forever.

They remained like that for hours, until the sky began to darken. The little rabbit left immediately before dusk, rushing towards its lair. A light gust of wind passed and lifted England's cloak.

He grabbed France's tunic to shelter from the sudden cold and the lad responded by embracing him steadily. He shifted to his side so that both children were lying next to each other in the grass.

They enjoyed the silence. The boys beheld into each other eyes, feeling only the vast land to witness their moment in solitude. That instant was for them to remember and no one else's.

Another rush of cold made them shiver, so they sought shelter in one another's arms. England closed his eyes and buried his face into France's soft shoulder.

"Then… why was I the first thing you thought of when you knew you were going to die?"

Hidden by the black cloak of the boy, he smiled sadly and answered with sincerity.

"Because if I were to die… I didn't want to die alone".

"How? You wanted me to die, too?" England asked with a mock scolding tone, smirking.

"You're going to die too, silly boy" France replied with a chuckle, looking at his face now.

England fell suddenly silent and his eyes went dark. The avoided thoughts had come in all at once and filled his warm heart with a wave of icy pain.

"I don't want to die. I'm not prepared".

"I don't think anybody's prepared for that" he replied to him with a condescending look.

"But I mean, did you think you would ever _end_? I didn't expect I would disappear… this soon".

France meditated in silence, not knowing what to say, because he shared the same thoughts. Although he wasn't expecting him to bring them up; he had wanted to bury those black birds with him and not let them fly out of his mind.

That was when he heard the boy sobbing.

"I'm scared, France…" he stuttered, "…of what will be at the other side…"

England felt the other country grab his hand reassuringly. The next words he heard, even when nations could understand each other no matter what they spoke, were said in such a deep accent the boy had problems to comprehend them.

" _N'importe pas ce qu'il y a après la mort, mais le dernier moment qu'on garde quand on est vivant_ "

Only the tracks of the previous tears remained in the smaller boy's rosy face, glaring in astonishment at France because of his profound words. Closing his grip firmly, he whispered:

"What is the last moment you would keep forever?"

The nation averted his eyes from the starry sky to the country that lay by his side.  
No, they weren't nations anymore. Just two humans in God's arms, like two more mortals.

Without saying anything he brought England's chin closer and pressed a shy kiss to his lips. But again the response of the kid was surprising when, having already known what the moment was, he devoted himself into the kiss and approached France's body and stuck it to his.

Under the twelve ominous bells the world would hear last, they sealed their lips; centuries of history, war and glory in the bodies of two children.

* * *

Consciousness came back first to England's mind.

Still with eyes shut, the boy recovered the sense of himself slowly. The recalls of his last night on Earth came back to him, too.

The first thing he realised was the place he was in was cool and bathed in a white, dim light. The air felt fresh and smelt of vegetation. He even heard a lazy trill in the distance.

For sure he must be in Heaven. He had felt a bit afraid in his last moments because of breaking the lessons of the priests in his kiss with another man, but this was the proof that those preachers were wrong. God distinguished and appreciated love, no matter the form of it.

Next to him he could feel the sound of other breathing. On his hand there was still the weight of another hand. England sighed in relief. France had entered the Eden with him.

He didn't want to open his eyes, though. If they could stay like that forever, that was enough for him. The nation couldn't feel more content right now, hand in hand with the person he loved, nothing to fear and no one to disturb.

The world was just perfect as it was.

He thought he had lost sense of time and space by then, when he felt him moving by his side.

In his past residence, in Earth, he'd have felt laziness or annoyance at the fact of opening his eyes, but he could face things in this new world differently. No bad feelings in Paradise. No more worries. He smiled and opened his eyelids to contemplate the beautiful new home God had granted them.

"Hey, these trees are familiar to me…", a voice whispered beside him.

And the grass. And the lake. Even the sky above them. England stood up roughly.

A black and white bunny ran away at the sudden shaking of his cloak. He rubbed his eyes.

"England! It's incredible!", France shouted. "All your land came to Heaven with us! Including the little animals!"

"SHUT UP, BLOODY MORON!" _How could he have believed in such an IDIOT?_ "You lied to me indeed! The world hasn't gone anywhere!"

"What are you talking ab- ah!" The child pushed the foolish French country to the water and turned away, red in anger and embarrassment. "Wait!"

He rushed towards the forest, crying, his innocence betrayed and scattered. He'd sworn eternal love to a complete and utter fraud, entrusted him his last breath – _well, what he thought would be his last!_ -, what for?! He would never ever recover his pride again!

And what would his people think? What would the King do if he found out? He'd given his lands to an enemy!

"Don't follow me!", he screamed, when he heard the hasty steps of the boy behind him.

"Please, wait! What's wrong? Isn't it wonderful that we're alive?"

Alive? The thought of not being dead hadn't crossed his mind a single moment. All he could think of was the deep burden stuck in his heart.

"As if you hadn't known this from the very beginning!", he shouted. His inner self demanded him to face that bastard and claim his territory back, but he knew it was a lost battle. He had to flee before he could hurt him further. "You have your deuced dreamt lands at last! What else do you need to rip away from me?"

But in his racket, the little child tripped with a branch and fell to the floor. Why? Why did the wood fairies let him be caught by that dipstick?

"England!", the traitor cried, stretching an arm to his back. He grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him. "Listen."

When he was lifted from the ground, he felt the damp blond locks from the youngster falling upon his face. He could not see anything a second after.

France kissed the nation gently and England couldn't keep his senses from ascending to Heaven again.

"Thank you for the lands. Here you are; I don't need them anymore", the bloke said softly when their lips parted.

The boy remained speechless. He blinked a few times to restrain the tears, because his ticker couldn't hold so many emotions anymore.

"I'm sorry for having hurt your feelings", France added, melancholically. "I swear I don't understand anything either… In the end, it seems that God actually had a better plan for us".

The island opened his mouth: "France, I…"

He shook his head. "No, you don't have to say anything. If that's what you want, I'll leave. Excuse me." He turned on him. A spark of anger invaded England suddenly.

"If you only wanted to say goodbye so dramatically, why didn't you-", he had to make a few stops to sniffle his nose, "why didn't you run back in the first time, you _deceitful…_!"

"None of my feelings were false." His answer made the child choke on his words and glare at him with eyes like saucers. "I had to tell you that before leaving. But all of that is history", he said, with a sad smile. "We died as lovers but we must be reborn as rivals again.  
Farewell."

The small kid watched the youngster part, until he was a mere shadow fading among the chiaroscuro of the trees. He heard some tinkling giggles behind him when the boy finally disappeared from his sight.

" _It's been really amusing, hasn't it?"_

" _That one was quite pretty, quite pretty!"_

"What's all that blabber! Why did it take you so long, good-for-nothings!"

A string of glints appeared from under the bushes, filling the tense atmosphere with light laughers and high-pitched murmurs. For once in a long time, England felt too tired to stand the irritating spirits.

" _We're not late! We were here the whole time!"_

" _We did know, we did know!"_

"What in earth did you know!", he blurted out.

" _What a confused little boy!"_

" _You two are so human!" "So, so, so human!"_

"Enough!", but the voices echoed even louder around him. He shouted exasperatedly; sometimes, the fairies had an ill-timed sense of humour.

" _He was such a liar!_ "

That precise sentence made England's heart fall to his feet.

"L-l-liar?" _So, he actually faked everything…_ Why did his chest feel so empty? Would he love an idiotic person that cared only about himself and could run away that easily after confessing his emotions?

The same creature that had said that flew towards his ear and whispered: " _Don't be silly, my dear. Of course he felt those strange feelings. That's what makes you so funnily human"_ , she giggled.

"Really?", somehow, showing his sentiments in front of the fairies didn't worry him that much. This time, the particular dryad smiled, spreading her warmth all over the nation.

" _Really. I don't lie. But he lied! He can't barely believe what he says…"_ , she paused due to the laughter, that didn't let her go on.

This time, England didn't push her. He sat down and waited for the small magic creature to speak. He thought of all the confusing moments he'd experienced in just a couple of days, unknown, wild and new. How could he put his emotions in order? Did that have a name?  
The spirit gave a few somersaults in the air before landing on his shoulder and exhaled.

" _You're heartsick, little human-land. You still have a lot to learn, but don't worry._

 _You'll meet again soon, as enemies. And hate and love are so close…"_


End file.
